


A Certain Affinity

by miobambiino



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Coming Out, Jealous Steve, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26143273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miobambiino/pseuds/miobambiino
Summary: "They were like that a lot nowadays, ever since they got back from their little kidnapping escapade. Sure, they’d been close before then - they all had - but now… it was different. They were close, close. Squishing up next to each other, whispering to one another, playing with each others hair, apparently.Steve inwardly grimaced at himself. He was being bitter and petty, he knew that. But he couldn’t figure out why, though. His teammates were getting along, which is only a good thing. Especially considering how they started things off way back on the helicarrier. But since when were Tony and Nat this cosy?"Aka Steve is jealous of Tony and Nat's friendship, gets the wrong idea, and requires a little help from Nat herself to get some well-needed perspective.
Relationships: Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 28
Kudos: 301





	A Certain Affinity

Natasha was excruciatingly familiar to life-threatening situations. Even before unifying the Avengers, she had endured enough shit to last most people several lifetimes. Nowadays, it took a lot to surprise her. Sure, she was never bored on missions, nor were they necessarily predictable; but she had learned a long time ago to expect the unexpected, to always, _always_ be ready for it.

However, she couldn’t help but grin through bloodied teeth at her latest escapade, finding that she genuinely hadn’t seen herself in this particular situation. Leaning her head back against a stab of upturned concrete, taking shelter from an onslaught of gunfire, she rolled her head to look to her left. Her eyes travelled down her left arm, along the pair of handcuffs latched onto her wrist connecting her to her companion. She was met with Tony’s frantic eyes looking back at her, incredulous at her grin.

“Please don’t tell me you’ve finally become totally unhinged. God, are you _enjoying_ this?”

She laughed despite herself. They were both exhausted, bloody, and bruised, it was honestly a miracle they’d gotten this far.

“No, but things were getting a little predictable don’t you think?”

More gunfire spat at their make-shift shelter, sending shots of concrete dust around them. Nat instinctively curled inwards, grabbing Tony by the back of the head and pulling him closer to her. She made note of the shouting that was growing louder; it wouldn't be long until their captors caught up with them.

  
Three days ago, after a particularly gruelling mission against a horde of alien creatures, the team had been blindsided by an attack from a group of former Hydra agents, gone rogue trying to establish their own little cohort of baddies. They hadn’t even been on the Avengers’ radar. S.H.I.E.L.D was supposedly on their trail, but clearly underestimated the group’s abilities. Both Nat and Tony had been injured in their last fight - no more so than normal, but enough that they weren’t equipped for an ambush. They’d been drugged and hauled out of there before the others had even known they were in trouble.

For all the ex-Hydra group’s efforts, they hadn’t exactly thought through who they’d kidnapped: a pair of highly-skilled superheroes both with a frankly gleaming reputation as escape artists. They spend the first day recovering and trying to get their bearings, and the second observing the guard’s schedules. By the third day in their grimy cell - somewhere they could only assume was in the North of Canada if their view from the tiny barred window was anything to go by ( _and_ the fact they hadn’t gone overseas, so) - the pair had already planned their escape. Sure, Nat would give the grunts some credit; A-plus for the abduction, but everything else… _eh_. 

With Nat’s experience, it really wasn’t hard to reach through the bars and snap the neck of their guard while Tony picked the lock. Nor was it that difficult picking up extra tactical gear and weapons and storming their way out, scrapping with any agents who got in their way. What had made it more of a nuisance was the fact they were handcuffed together with reinforced cuffs that looked suspiciously like S.H.I.E.L.D’s design for supersoldier-proof restraints. Not to mention they still hadn’t properly treated any of their injuries - Nat still had a slight limp after sustaining a minor stab wound to her thigh (Clint would probably yell at her for calling any stab wound _minor_ , but hey, in her book, it was), and a few of Tony’s ribs were at least cracked, if not broken. 

Once the gunfire subsided, Nat looked up into the dense treeline a short distance from the run-down army base these agents had set up camp. Raising their guns, they both poked out above their shelter, shooting back. They managed to clip a few agents, but handguns were only so good at long-distance. They ducked back down, both grunting at the exertion. 

“After the next round of fire, we need to make a run for it. We won’t have another shot after that.”

Tony nodded, reloading his gun.

“I would say that’s a sure-fire way to get shot at, but I also don’t fancy our chances staying put either, so you’re the boss.”

On que, the next round of bullets stuck from behind. They waited, crouched-down waiting for the bullets to once again cease firing. With the hand joint to Tony with the cuffs, Nat grabbed Tony’s hand in hers firmly. They couldn’t afford one of them lagging behind. Just as Tony felt like his heart might explode with anticipation, the bullets stopped, and they ran.

Nat fired behind her for good measure as they sprinted for the treeline, making sure to avoid running in a straight path. Gritting her teeth through the searing pain in her thigh, Nat pushed forward, distantly aware that Tony was also resolutely ignoring his own pain for now. They had time for that later. Once close enough, they dove, tumbling down the steep bank at the edge of the treeline, before getting a grip amongst the undergrowth and tuning their guns back to face any agents in pursuit. 

One agent must have been bold enough to approach the trees, but Nat and Tony saw him first and fired simultaneously at the man’s head. He collapsed to the ground instantly.

“Nice shot, who’s been training you?”

Tony huffed out a laugh, rolling his eyes.

“God, no one warned me you were as much of an ass as-”

“-As you?”

“Yeah, actually! As much as an ass as _me_.”

“You can cry about it later, but we’ve still got more running to do.”

“Oh, good. I’ve just _really_ been enjoying it so far.”

Linking hands again, the pair hauled each other up as they continued to charge through the woods, gunfire finally beginning to grow more and more distant. For all their blunders, those agents at least seemed to have the good sense to know that their best bet now was to haul ass and set up base somewhere else; the Avengers had garnered quite the reputation for bringing all hell down against those who’d tried (and failed) to capture members of their team. Historically, it never ended well for the bad guys.

By the time their sprint had ebbed into a fast-paced walk, the sun was beginning to set around them. Tony’s breathing was laboured, and Nat couldn’t suppress her limp any longer. Her eyes were getting droopy, and she was vaguely aware that Tony was taking most of her weight. 

Suddenly, she was jolted by Tony straightening up. Lifting her chin up off her chest ( _when did that happen?_ ) Nat looked up towards what caught Tony’s attention: a light.

It was moving - _headlights_ , her mind supplied. Before she could say anything, she felt the weight being lifted off her feet entirely, instinctively hooking her arm around Tony’s neck as he pulled her into his arms and bolted towards it. She realised he was talking - well, shouting - between ragged breaths.

“-fucking _shit_ you must literally be pure muscle how are you this heavy, _fuck!_ Nat? Nat can you - christ - can you get the-”

Even half unconscious, Nat drew her gun, aiming as best she could (which was still better than most) towards the light. It could be the agents out in a patrol car, after all. But they both knew their chances of survival - with nothing but each other and their injuries - in the sub-zero temperatures at night were excruciatingly slim. 

Crashing out of the trees, they came to a stop, Tony panting frantically - feet now planted on tarmac instead of dirt - and Nat aimed her gun at the figure silhouetted by headlights, hands raised.

“Woah, Woah! Shit, I’m not armed, I’m not armed!” the man - definitely Canadian, Nat noted - was probably in his early fifties, clad in denim jeans and a large puffer jacket. Nat lowered the gun, sighing in relief.

“It’s okay, we just need help, that’s all, sorry about the-” Tony nodded at the gun held loosely in Nat’s hand, “Yeah, that - can you help us out here?”

The man quickly jumped into action, coming forward, and helping Tony with Nat’s weight and guiding her to the inside of the truck. He eyed the handcuffs a few times but thought better of mentioning them. Tony climbed in after her, collapsing in the seat and clutching his side.

“Should I take you to a hospital?”

Nat pressed her face against the cool glass of the back window, willing herself to stay awake.

“No, no you need to get us somewhere we can stay for the night, with a phone,” she mumbled, trying as best as she could to enunciate properly. “Drop us off somewhere, then go home - and make sure no one follows you. There are…” her head dropped for a second, and Tony was at her side instantly, gently leaning her back “We don’t want you in any sort of harm's way”.

The man looked at them through his rear-view mirror, recognition creeping across his face. Tony’s albeit overgrown goatee, Nat’s fiery red hair, and the sheer amount of weapons they’d managed to strap onto themselves started to paint the picture. Despite knowing they probably needed medical attention, when an Avenger tells you you could be in danger for helping them, you’re more than inclined to just do what you can then get the hell out of there, no questions asked.

“Oh - _oh shit_ \- right. Just hang on!”

The man tore off from the side of the road, eyes fixed on the road ahead, willing himself not to look at the passengers in the backseat of his pickup truck. Nat had slumped into Tony’s side and his head had dropped on top of hers, chest still heaving for air.

They eventually pulled up to what looked like a small, somewhat run-down resort nestled into the trees just off the main road. The pair climbed out the truck, thanking the man profusely and taking the guys name just so that, when they were back, Tony could compensate the poor guy a _ridiculously_ generous amount for the whole ordeal. The man - Jim, apparently - looked reluctant to leave them, but did so all the same, wishing them good luck. He even clumsily thanked them for the service, looking slightly mortified by the outburst, but Natasha just smiled back sluggishly, letting Tony lead her to one of the cabins.

Even in this state, being steered off somewhere unknown without hope of being able to stand upright on her own, what perhaps surprised her more than anything else these past few days was the fact that she without a doubt trusted the man at her side with her life.

They hadn’t bothered to check in with the cabin at the front of the site with the large ‘reception’ sign hanging off it. Sure, they’d pay for it and then some afterwards, but they had to assume they were still being pursued or even at risk of facing a separate ambush if anyone else were to realise that two Avengers were vulnerable and alone. So checking into a guest book didn’t really scream ‘good idea’.

They’d easily been able to pick the lock of the cabin door - not exactly fort Knox, they’d agreed once they’d settled down on a sofa. Nat had her leg raised, digging into a cup of instant ramen Tony had foraged from the back of one of the kitchenette cupboards while trying to hold Nat up by his side. They’d still not been able to get out of the cuffs.

“It’s not infected, thank God, but you’ll probably need stitches.”

Natasha sighed, “I figured as much,” she hissed as Tony gently dabbed at the wound clean with an anti-bacterial wipe they’d plundered from the rather underwhelming first-aid kit they’d found in the bathroom. “God, you _bitch_ , that hurt.”

Tony barked out a surprised laugh at that, wincing as he jolted his ribs - an icepack bound loosely around his chest with bandages to hold it in place while he busied himself with Nat’s leg. “Did you seriously call me a bitch? I’ve never heard you call anyone _else_ a bitch while they’re piecing you back together, the nerve-”

“Oh, but you are kind of a bitch.”

“...I didn’t say you were _wrong_ , just that it’s rude-”

“You called me ‘red peril’ just last week.”

“Come on! You laughed at that!”

“You laughed just now.”

Tony looked up at her, trying and failing to keep a straight face. Nat noticed that about him. When he did his fake smiles, the ones reserved for the press or people he didn’t trust, it was perfectly straight; but his genuine smiles started with an upward tick at the corner of his mouth, curling into a sideways smirk before becoming a full-blown grin, as if trying to hold it back. It was cute, she supposed, but only to the extent that it was simply a gesture that reminded her of her friend. Because oddly enough, that’s what they were now. Good friends, at that.

After patching themselves up, scarfing down their food and swallowing down painkillers, Nat supposed that she’d been in far worse situations after being held captive. Hell, she knew Tony had.

It was comfortable. She and Tony over the past few months had accumulated that sort of friendship - they could be physically affectionate all the while hurling petty insults at each other like children. It was nice, and something she didn’t have with many people especially beyond the team. People were scared of her, which she didn’t exactly try and deter since it worked in her favour. But still, she’s still human, and it was just such a relief to have people _not_ walk on eggshells with her. Even Clint, when she first met him, had taken a little bit of time to adjust to her. They’d worked up to a point in their friendship where they could banter with one another. But Tony had come right out the gate with it as soon as she was properly introduced to him as Natasha, not Natalie. Even back then, dying and reckless and just a fucking _mess_ , she often found that she didn’t have to pretend to laugh at his jokes. She actually _did_ find him funny.

Now, they had grown to truly respect one another and actually enjoyed hanging out with one another. Really, all of them on the team had created that sort of bond with each other, but she had grown a different kind of unique fondness, a weird kinship, towards the genius as of late that she hadn’t been able to figure out.

“Well call for the team in the morning since the only phone around here is probably in that reception building.”

“We probably should have just asked that guy for his phone. I honestly don’t think they’re still after us.”

“Yeah, probably not, I imagine they’re all running for the hills by now,” he half-heartedly shook his fist in the air, deadpan expression on his face “they’ll rue the day they messed with the Avengers, or whatever. Still, kinda didn’t wanna risk it - getting him more involved than he was already forced to be.”

“He did manage to take a photo of us in his phone’s front camera, though, so he got something out of it.”

“Wait- _what_? How did I miss that and you didn’t, you were basically passed out!” He huffed, amused, “He’s an opportunist, then. I can appreciate that - we _did_ owe him anyway.”

“We _did_ , I mean, we bled all over his back seat,”

“That was, like, seventy-per cent you doing the bleeding.”

“Oh, controlled yourself, did you?”

“Oh yeah, just held it in.”

“How’d you do that exactly?”

“I concentrated real hard.”

She laughed easily, feeling herself start to slump in her seat. “Be useful for once and help me get up, would you?”

Tony scoffed “W-o-w,” he drew out, “Carrying your limp body through the woods and to our lord-and-saviour Jim not enough for you?” He was already helping her up, manoeuvring them both to the only bed in the place.

“Please, that’s just an average day in our line of work. You’ll need to do better to impress me, Anthony Stark.”

They collapsed on top of the bed, springs creaking beneath them as they shuffled to get comfortable. Or, as comfortable as they could while still shackled together. Facing one another because of the angle of the cuffs, Nat comfortably observed how calm both herself and Tony were, even when forced into quite an intimate space. With any of the other guys on the team - with the obvious exception of Clint, but then Clint was _Clint_ \- she supposed there would be a slight awkwardness. Not so much on her part, she didn’t really care when it came to her team; she knew them more than they probably knew themselves and _knew_ she could trust them not to be dicks.

On the rare occasions she’d had to bunk with one of the guys, they’d always been quite rigid, staying as far away as possible from her without making it too obvious. But Tony… she didn’t even think it was just that he was comfortable with sharing beds with people, or that he didn’t have the same respect for women (he was best friends with Pepper Potts, for fuck’s sake, she’d never tolerate any of that shit, and if she loved Tony, that was enough of an indication that he wasn’t one of _those_ guys). It was like the usual context of a man and woman sharing a bed - no matter how ridiculous said ‘context’ is - hadn’t even crossed his mind. She guessed she understood, in a way, not that he would know why; the only time she’d ever felt that awkward tension was when sharing a bed with women, particularly women she found attractive- _wait a damn minute_.

“What’s up with you, your face is doing that thing where you look like you’re trying to crack the Da Vinci code or something-”

“Are you gay?”

Tony’s eyes went wide momentarily before he seemed to catch himself. He tried to look amused, huffing out a short breath as if to appear incredulous.

“What, no - why did you even ask that-?!”

Natasha persisted - she was nothing if not to the point when she wanted to be. Frankly, she wanted her friend to know he could be honest with her; and if part of her - the little part that longed for affinity - was secretly hoping he might say yes… well, no one else needed to know about that.

“Are you bisexual?” she asked quietly, creating such a tone of raw honesty that the air felt as though it had been sucked from the room. She felt it, and she already knew that Tony did too.

Tony blinked at her, mouth twitching the slightest amount as if testing out how to produce the words he was about to say. He looked at her, saw the intent in her eyes, but behind that noticed how she had all but stopped breathing, and her fists were clenched so tightly he was sure her fingernails must be pinching her skin: she was just as nervous as he was, which was more than interesting, and perhaps the only reason why he did the unthinkable and answered honestly.

“...Yep.”

Natasha stared, then a stifled laugh came out before she could catch it with her free hand.

“What, no no, _why_ are you _laughing_?!”

“Sorry! I’m sorry, just… ‘yep’? Not even a normal ‘yes’, just ‘yep’ - that’s how you come out to me?” She cackled, which was probably ridiculous. It wasn’t even that funny, but, in that moment, she just felt so light and - God help her - _giddy_ with relief she couldn’t help but break out into a smile and just _laugh_.

“What?!” Tony wasn’t as tense now, a grin forming across his face even if he wasn’t completely sure why. “I thought it was simple, effective! I am having a moment of _honesty_ with you, and you’re laughing at me?”

“No, no! I’m not laughing _at_ you, just… _laughing_ , don’t ask me to explain it, Tony.”

“Well can I ask why you asked?”

“I… wanted to see if we have things in common.”

“I mean, we have work in common, both like horror movies, that place in SoHo with the donuts, have a… a home in common, I guess you’d put it?” She knew Tony knew what she was getting at, but unlike her direct approach, was prodding to see if she’d volunteer the information herself.

“I am aware that I, unfortunately, live with you and several other men, yes.” 

“Do you _like_ living with men?”

“No, but I put up with it.”

“...Do you like men, period?”

“Certainly not like you do.”

Tony made an indignant noise, throwing a pillow at her face while she laughed at the faint blush rising on his cheeks. Her grin didn’t subside though, she just kicked him in the leg with her foot, warmth blossoming in her chest like she hadn’t experienced before.

“So you’re gay?”

“Yep.”

“Oh, so ‘ _that’s how you come out to me’_ , is it?” he mimicked, looking just as happily surprised as Nat felt.

“I think I just have better delivery; don’t take it personally, I’m better than most people at most things.”

“I’ll take your word for it, itsy-bitsy.”

* * *

The following morning, Tony and Natasha were sitting on the steps of the cabin porch when the familiar sound of the quinjet’s engine came within earshot. Nat adjusted her grip on the paper cup full of sickly-sweet hot chocolate that the resort owner had given them when they asked to use the phone, clearly taking pity on them. They’d been too exhausted to properly wash, and with no other option, has slept in the same clothes they’d made their great escape in.

“I’ve never been more excited to have a shower,” Tony sighed, watching as the jet settled onto the ground amongst a large clearing not far off from their cabin.

“Really? Not even after we dealt with those mutant-things in the sewers a few months back?”

“Oh, _God_ \- yeah, alright. Well, this is a close second.”

They didn’t even bother to sit up when the hatch to the jet opened, and Clint, Steve, and Bruce practically scrambled out, looking around frantically before spotting the pair waving lazily at them from their spot.

“ _Holy shit_ ,” Clint panted to himself, sprinting over to them “thank fuck they’re alright.” He slowed to a jog, grinning ear to ear as he approached them. “You kids enjoy your sleepover?”

Tony and Nat answered unanimously, “It was shit.”

Clint threw his head back laughing, the others running up behind him looking equally as relieved. Steve was already looking over each of them manically, taking in all their visible injuries. He seemed to stop at the gash to Tony’s temple, which had bled profusely at the time. It looked a lot worse than it was, and had stopped bleeding while Jim had driven them to the resort. Still, his hair was matted to his face with blood that trailed down the entire left side of his face. 

Steve crouched down, eye-to-eye with Tony, gently taking the smaller man’s chin in one hand and angling it to the side to get a better look at the wound. Nat rolled her eyes; Steve cared for them all equally, she knew, but he always had had an odd affection for Tony. She supposed she wasn’t one to judge, though.

“Do I even need to tell you that it’s not as bad as it looks? C’mon, I’m fine, Nat can vouch for me,”

“Yeah, he only forgot his name for like an hour,” she teased, letting Clint inspect her leg, his lips pursed in a thin line. Steve snapped up at that, eyes wide until he saw the smirk she was directing his way. Steve shot her an unimpressed look, before giving her a wry smile. 

“You ran on this leg, didn’t you?” Bruce chastised, having settled down in front of her with a far more technical first-aid kit in hand than the one in the cabin.

“Well, it was that or be shot, and I know how tedious you find bullet wounds.”

“Always thinking of little old me, hm?” Bruce teased, pushing down the nerves that came with the image of his two friends almost being killed like that.

“Can we deal with this on the jet? We’ve gone like four days without WiFi and I’m going out of my goddamn _mind_ without-” Tony stopped his tangent when Steve procured his Starkphone from his back pocket, holding it out a few inches in front of Tony’s face. “Oh, light of my life, what would I do without you?”

“You better have some decent food for me in that other pocket, Cap,” Nat quipped. 

“I’ll do you one better, there’s pizza on the jet.”

“Then _why_ are we still _here_? Take me to it already,” she demanded, Tony’s accompanying groan supporting her statement. She let Clint support her under one her armpit and bring her to her feet when the archer noticed the handcuffs.

“Ooh, so it was _that_ kind of sleepover, was it?”

“Shut up. Pizza. Move.” She countered, noting the way Steve hadn’t laughed at Clint’s little joke. _Whatever_ , she thought, hobbling over to the jet with Tony’s hand linked in hers.

  
  


As per most evenings - when they managed to catch a break from superheroing, that is - the team were gathered on the communal floor, transfixed on whatever film they’d settled on this time. Steve had already forgotten the name, only vaguely aware of the general plot - some zombie comedy Thor had declared was his favourite film. Though he did say that about most films, so it really wasn’t an accurate measure of how great it was.

Everyone else was enjoying it, oblivious to the fact Steve just couldn’t get _into_ it. Bucky and Clint were sitting on the floor with their backs to the sofas despite there being more than enough room - they seemed to like having the room to stretch out. Rhodey happily occupied the space that left him to put his feet up, with Bruce curled up in the corner. Thor and Sam were chatting about ‘the good bit’ that was coming up, piling popcorn into their mouths unable to look away from the screen. 

But what was apparently more interesting than British people trying to find a pub in the midst of a zombie apocalypse (which _should_ be really interesting, right?), was how close Tony and Nat were. Natasha was lying back between Tony’s legs, one of his arms thrown over her stomach, his other hand twirling her hair. They were talking, and had it not been for the sounds of screaming from the TV and his teammates' idle chatter and intermittent laughter, he’d _probably_ be able to pick up on what they were saying.

They were like that a lot nowadays, ever since they got back from their little kidnapping escapade. Sure, they’d been close before then - they all had - but now… it was different. They were _close_ , close. Squishing up next to each other, whispering to one another, playing with each others hair, apparently.

Steve inwardly grimaced at himself. He was being bitter and petty, he knew that. But he couldn’t figure out _why_ , though. His teammates were getting along, which is only a good thing. Especially considering how they started things off way back on the helicarrier. But since when were Tony and Nat _this_ cosy? 

He thought back to when his friendship with Nat really took off, while Buck was still the Winter Soldier and Sam just a friendly acquaintance. Since then, he’d gotten his best friend back, made a new best friend with Sam, and felt as though he was one of the few people that Nat not only trusted but was openly herself to. This… this was just Tony and Nat’s own friendship solidifying. God, she was allowed to be close to other people, especially Tony.

Tony.

Steve couldn’t pinpoint the moment things changed between them - when the friction between them was replaced with a dynamic that felt more like a well-oiled machine. Not any machine at that, the kind Tony would invent, the sleek, ingenious, incredible, kind of mechanism that still baffled Steve to this day. Steve actually got used to modern-day technology pretty quickly, even taking to it like a pro once he accepted his newfound place in the twenty-first century; but the stuff Tony came up with? Nothing except maybe other-worldly magic even _touched_ it.

Okay, perhaps he tended to wax poetic about Tony sometimes, but Steve supposed he was just proud of his friend’s achievements. Or, so he told himself. He wasn’t sure he wanted to look into his friendship with Tony too much. As long as he ignored the glaring signs that pointed towards feelings that were not strictly platonic, he’d be fine.

That is until Nat was led back in his lap, laughing at something Tony had whispered to her. _Goddamnit_.

“Hey,” Bucky whispered from his spot on the floor, tilting his head all the way back to look at Steve upside down where he resolutely was _not_ sulking on the sofa. “You’ve been awful quiet, you good?”

“Yeah,” the blonde answered in the same hushed voice, “just tired.”

Bucky snorted. “Tired? Right, that’s not code for anything.”

“Buck.”

“We’ll talk about it another time then, when you’re not _tired_.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s late, I am tired.”

“Jeez, you stubborn- HEY!” Bucky recoiled at the cushion that had been lobbed his way, scowling at Sam.

“Shut up man, this is _actually_ the best part!”

Steve couldn't help but sag in relief for the distraction, but felt his stomach swoop horribly when he noticed Tony hadn’t even looked his way from where he was leaning into Nat.

* * *

Steve always lingered behind as the others trailed off back to their quarters for the night, putting the empty takeout boxes or dinner plates away, folding up the crumpled blankets and tossing the cushions back onto the sofas. Tony had always found it endearing; it was just so Steve, looking after them all in quiet ways, always brushing off the ‘thank you’s. 

Tony noticed he did that a lot. Rarely accepting a compliment or anything of the sort, so he’d started lingering back too, helping the soldier with his pottering around. Rather than verbalising these things so much, Tony found himself returning the little favours. He hoped the other man saw it for what it was, as a thank you, but even if he hadn’t caught on, the smile of appreciation he always sent Tony’s way was more than worth it.

And if he also happened to loiter behind as well because it gave him more alone-time with Steve, then frankly that was his business. Also because he could pinch some of the leftovers Clint always put aside. _Heh-heh_.

Steve was hand-drying the last of the dishes (even though the dishwasher was _right there_ ) while Tony gently took them off him and stacked them away in the cabinets. When the last one was done, Steve had looked up at him with the grace of a smile on his lips, a few wayward strands of his golden hair drooping over his forehead.

“Tea?”

“Yeah, please.” Tony would never admit to Bruce he actually didn’t mind the stuff - it had become kind of a group joke to gag at whatever blend Bruce was having, even though they all pillaged his stash behind his back. Not that Bruce hadn’t caught on, of course.

Tony hopped onto the edge of the counter as the kettle boiled, legs swinging slightly. Steve leant back against the counter opposite, making a _tsk_ noise at the brunette.

“You’re such a brat, my Ma would’a slapped me up the side of my head if I sat on her kitchen tops.”

“Well _that’s_ because they were hers, and I paid for these, ergo, I can do what I want.”

“You're telling me your Mom never cussed you out for your manners? I mean jeez, I thought rich kids were supposed to have good etiquette drilled into them.”

“They tried, they failed.”

“Can’t stop a runaway train,” Steve agreed playfully, dodging to the side when Tony kicked his foot out at him.

“I was just special and different-”

“You’re _still_ special and different.”

“I know you mean that as an insult, but I’m running with that. In fact, Jarvis? Did you catch that? I want to set it as my voicemail.”

“Of course, sir.”

“No, no!” Steve laughed, pointing his finger between Tony and up at the ceiling - he always looked up when addressing Jarvis - “I don’t consent for my voice to be used like that out of context, get rid of that right now.”

“Captain Rogers makes a fair argument, sir. I must insist on deleting that recording.”

“Ha!”

“Oh, come on! Why does he listen to you, he’s _my_ AI- you’re my AI, Jarv!”

Steve laughed as he walked around the counter to brew the kettle, now finished boiling. “Honey?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Fuck off, do you want honey in your tea?”

“Yes - thank you for asking _so_ nicely, Steven.”

Tony was still smiling as Steve came to stand in front of him, passing him one of the mugs in his hands.

“You’re lucky I do anything nice for you at all, _Anthony_.”

“It’s not luck, I think you actually might like me, really.”

“Deep down. I try to repress it.”

“Give up now. Many have tried, it’s futile.”

Steve was chuckling at him, eyes slightly creased in the corners, cheeks rosy with amusement. Tony tried to level his breathing, but Steve was standing right there, practically between Tony’s legs and _ohmygod_ he was so pretty. He was too occupied trying not to stare at the other man’s lips that he didn’t notice how Steve’s smile began to look a little stiffer.

“Nat being one, I suppose.”

Tony smiled - it _was_ nice, being close to Nat. There was just an easiness there, an understanding that went beyond the fact that neither of them was straight. Sure, it took off a lot from there, once they both realised, but that wasn’t the _reason_ they were close. It just… it was nice, being able to share that part of yourself with someone when you’re hiding it from the rest of the world. Also, Nat was outrageously funny, and he knew she thought the same of him. They just _clicked_.

Tony realised he’d been quiet for a few seconds, before nodding.

“Oh yeah, even she broke. So you never had any hope.”

“No,” Steve smiled, resigned in a way Tony didn’t quite pick up on, “No I really didn’t.”

* * *

Steve was jealous of the bond Tony and Natasha had. That was it. It was understandable as well, they were clearly open with one another, and comfortable in a way Steve himself hadn’t seen them be with other members of the team. They weren’t better friends with each other than anyone else, they just had something… different.

Steve eyed the clock on the stove, which flashed _7:58_ back at him as he leant on the edge of the kitchen counter, a pan sizzling in front of him. Bruce was already sitting at the kitchen island, herbal tea by his elbow as he read through an ornately decorated book.

“Unless you’re planning to cook for everyone else, I’d hurry up with that if I were you before the rabble gets here,” Bruce commented, smiling over the rim of his mug as he brought it to his lips, “they’ll demand to be fed as well.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“You know I am.”

“Nah, it’s fine, I don’t mind…” Steve smiled in return. Bruce was exactly the kind of calm and comforting presence a person needed in the morning, especially this one, since he knew Buck wouldn’t have forgotten about the night before. Hell, he’d probably roped Sam into his business already.

Their peaceful equilibrium was disturbed with the sudden arrival of Thor, who greeted them both brightly - smiling even brighter at Steve when he noticed the pan.

“Is that french toast?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m already making enough for everyone bud.”

The God levelled him with a mock-serious look that Steve had long gotten used to, “This is why you make an excellent leader, Steven. Stern, but compassionate; firm, yet fair. I’m truly grateful-”

Bruce swatted Thor without lifting an eye off of his book, “Lay off the theatrics, he already said he’d cook you breakfast.”

Steve shook his head, an easy smile breaking out across his face. God love them, they were all so stupid.

Clint trailed in not long after, followed by Bucky, then Sam and Rhodey - all freshly showered having done a few rounds in the gym. Steve wasn’t watching the doorway waiting for anyone else to emerge. Nope. Not bothered at-

“Morning, Tones,” Steve really should be embarrassed by the way his head snapped up at Rhodey’s voice, eyes immediately going to the doorway.

“Good morning, sour-patch. Looking dashing as always.” Tony, as always, shuffled past everyone and made straight for the coffee machine, the sleeves of his oversized M.I.T sweatshirt almost draping off his hands as he reached for his mug. He pulled out two, however, pouring an espresso shot in each one and topping it off with whatever variety of milk was closest to him as he swung open the fridge.

A hand on Steve’s shoulder interrupted his slight daze - why was watching Tony make coffee so _interesting_ \- and he looked to find Natasha peering over to look at the contents of the pan.

“Do you need help?”

“No, no, I’m good, thank you though.”

She smiled at him, giving him one more pat on the shoulder before taking a seat. Tony sat down next to her, pushing one of the mugs in front of her. 

“For me?”

“Of course, darling.”

“You’re precious.”

Maybe Steve should have accepted her offer to help, then he might not have to listen to their endearing small talk. Christ, he was being so fucking _petty_. As far as he could tell, it bothered literally no one else. Get over it, for the love of-

“Flip that before it burns,” Sam observed from his left, casting him a look that clearly meant _I know something is up and I’m going to make you talk about it_.

* * *

Rhodey had insisted that they all head upstate to get out of the city for what was projected to be the hottest day of the year so far; he _hated_ New York when it got that hot, and in all fairness, it did tend to take on a cooked-trash smell in some parts. So, everyone was happy to head up to a quiet lakeside area for a barbeque.

Steve was glad they’d decided on a lake that was safe to swim in because, by _God,_ he had no doubt that this would be the hottest they’d get for the rest of the year as well. They’d spent most of the afternoon kicking around in the shallow ends of the water, blasting music and eating an obscene amount of food. But between an entire team of superheroes that also happened to consist of a literal demi-God, two supersoldiers, and Bruce - who’d transformed for a mission just the day before - so, it was a little more understandable. 

Now, it was pushing into the late afternoon. Still ridiculously warm, but the sun was gradually setting, sending a warm wash over everything. Golden hour, or as Sam put it, prime-time to take photos if you wanted to like twice as hot than normal.

Steve didn’t buy that it made anyone hotter, per se, but he had to admit, it just made everything look so ethereal. Tony, in particular, Steve thought, looked positively beguiling. He’d let his hair grow out longer, allowing for it the slight curl at the nape of his neck and partly over his forehead; after being in the water, any hope of product keeping it in place was gone, instead, leaving it to naturally loll and curl in a way that made him look so _fucking_ pretty. 

The genius was currently trying to set up a campfire with Rhodey, Bruce, Clint, and of course, Nat. Steve himself was helping create some monstrous desert with Buck, Sam, and Thor, the latter of which was encouraging them to create some obscure kebab of marshmallows, chocolate pieces and strawberries.

“Why don’t we just make smores?”

“Nonsense! This is far better, you’ll thank me later, Samuel.” Thor grinned. Sam just shook his head, chortling.

“A’ight, but don’t cry to me if it all falls into the fire.”

Steve grinned at the pair, before looking up to when Tony and Clint began a ridiculous high-pitch screaming. Both had jumped backwards from the fire, crashing into the ground and scrambling to get back from a fire that was now impressively roaring. Bruce and Rhodey were shouting at them - all while laughing - as Nat just cackled, throwing her head back and letting her red hair curl and bounce with the movement.

“I told you we didn’t need to add anything else, you just had to be _patient-_!”

“It was taking forever!” Clint protested, rolling off of his back.

“So you thought pouring _gasoline_ into it was the next logical thing to do?!”

“It worked didn’t it?!”

“You idiots almost set yourselves on _fire_.”

“Well, there’s a lake right there! We’d have been _fine-_!”

“I would expect someone with as many PhDs as you to have at least slightly better judgement, Tony!”

“Oh, nah, do you know how many times we all had to evacuate our dorms in college because _someone_ thought they could do their little experiments _in bed?_ ” 

“Nothing ever actually _happened_ though, and half the time those smoke detectors went off it was probably because someone was smoking pot in their room, not because of me!”

“Nothing? You mean I _imagined_ waking up seeing our carpet on fire?”

“I _knew_ you’d bring that up, you always-!”

“HOW COULD I NOT, TONY!” 

Tony was running away from Rhodey now, cackling as the other man dove after him, possibly intent on tossing him into the water. He ducked under Nat’s arm, before coming up behind her, both hands on her waist as he used her to shield himself from Rhodey.

What surprised Steve, and Rhodey it seemed, was that Nat didn’t immediately just hand over Tony herself (they’d seen her lift _Thor_ , she could do it), but actually got into a defensive stance, a wicked grin on her face.

Clint was egging them on, Bruce looking thoroughly amused, while Rhodey tried to get around Nat. Tried being the keyword. Eventually, she just turned and picked Tony up herself. With her truly freakish strength was able to hold the genius with one arm under his thighs as he wrapped his legs around her waist, a shit-eating grin pointed his best friend’s way.

With her free hand, Nat raised a finger at Rhodey.

“Stay back, slut.”

Tony howled with laughter, his friend looking at the pair incredulously, unable to keep his own hysterics contained. 

Steve could hear the other’s laughing beside him, and he couldn’t help the sappy smile that was brought to his lips at how carefree and happy Tony looked. Ignoring the fact it wasn’t with _him_ , that is.

Later, all sat around the campfire attempting to toast… whatever it was Thor had conjured up, Steve couldn’t ignore the soft flutter of butterflies in his stomach as Tony pressed up against his side, sharing one of the make-shift log seats Steve and Bucky had dragged over for the team. In an increasingly rare turn of events, Nat and Tony weren’t sitting right next to each other. Instead, the redhead was helping Bruce try and toast his dessert while listening to Thor talk avidly about one of his many adventures before he’d met them all. Clint and Bucky were tossing sticks into the fire, making some kind of game out of it simply to sate their competitive urges. Rhodey was leant over looking at Sam’s phone, who was wiping through Tik Toks he’d saved, giggling like children. 

Despite his animated character, Tony did have moments of quiet appreciation like Steve, sometimes preferring to take in the comforting presence created between their friends. He was smiling, face lit up by the golden hues of the sun and eyes illuminated by the fire in front of them, revealing the rich tones of browns and golds in his irises. 

“If you want, you can finish this for me.” The brunette offered.

“I’ll help you out - but just because the serum gives me a fast metabolism does _not_ mean it also made me immune to that frankly _lethal_ amount of sugar,” Steve huffed, enjoying the way he could feel Tony’s laugh go through him while they sat this closely. 

“Eh, we can just throw it in the fire, he’s not looking.”

“ _No-_ Well… at least eat the fruit.” Steve conceded, taking the stick off Tony and attempting to pick around the melted (and charred, ew) chocolate and sticky sugar. Giving in, he just started pulling off the marshmallow and chocolate, discretely tossing it into the fire while Tony made sure Thor wasn’t looking, barely holding back a smile. Steve pulled a face looking down at his now-tacky fingers, looking around for a napkin or something so he could at least make an effort to clean it off before eating the strawberries.

“Here, let me just-” Tony took the stick back, sliding one of the strawberries off and holding it out delicately in front of Steve’s face.

“What-”

“Open your mouth, duh.”

Steve resisted the urge to blush, feeling Tony’s eyes on him. _Don’t make it weird, he’s being nice_ he berated himself. He opened his mouth, desperately hoping it didn’t look as awkward as it felt, but Tony didn’t make fun of him, just placing the strawberry into Steve's mouth before taking another off the stick for himself. 

For a moment Steve didn’t even chew it, before he quickly snapped back to reality. Looking up, his shoulders sagged in relief at the fact no one had seemed to even notice. Tony was holding out another one, and Steve liked to think he was more blasé when taking it this time. As Tony took the last one, Steve found himself looking intently at the brunette, taking in the man’s ridiculously full eyelashes, which only emphasised his ‘Bambi eyes’ - a phrase he’d heard _multiple_ people on the team use to refer to Tony’s eyes. 

_He’s so gorgeous it hurts_. His nose had a soft curve to it - unlike Steve’s own quite sharp features - and up close Steve could see the freckles that peppered the high-points of his face, the faint wisps of silver hair at his temple-

“-you okay?”

Oh, Tony had been talking to him. 

“Sorry, I was just... somewhere else for a sec…”

“Oh, well, I _was_ about to ask if you’d never been told that it’s rude to stare-” Tony purred.

“I wasn’t-! I was just, observing, and in thought.”

“Right, not the same thing as staring.”

“No,” Steve tried to play it cool, so why he said what he did next was beyond him, “I was just taking in your face.”

“...O-kay?”

“I mean, I draw.” _Why why why-_

“You do.” Tony teased. Steve huffed, praying he didn’t look too flustered.

“What I mean, is that I sometimes like to- to observe people’s faces a little closer because it helps when I practise drawing.” Okay, that made sense. He’s in the clear.

“You draw me?”

**_OH NO._ **

“I draw everyone, but yes, you…”

“You’ve never shown me!”

_Because no matter how much I try I can’t seem to do you justice,_ he didn’t say. “I don’t have many good ones, you never sit still long enough!”

“I’ll sit still when I’m dead.”

“Well, I hope you’ll be considerate enough to have an open-casket then, since that’ll be my only chance at drawing you properly.”

“Of course, otherwise that would be very selfish of me.”

“Oh yeah, so selfish. _Or_ , you could learn to sit still for at least half an hour, then I might consider drawing you more.”

“Hmm, I’ll see. That’s quite an ask, Rogers.”

Their easy bickering went back and forth for a while, eventually merging into the rest of the group’s conversation. As the sun dipped lower, and Tony began so slump ever so slightly (they hadn’t brought coffee with them, so much to the genius’ horror, he’d only had _one_ coffee all day), gradually leaning his head against Steve’s shoulder. 

The fire was slowly simmering down too, but Steve had never felt warmer.

* * *

Training with Nat was a lot more fun than Tony had anticipated. If he was honest, he’d always assumed her combat style was way beyond his own abilities, so really, there wasn’t any point in _trying_ her methods.

He told her that while they’d been stuck in that cell; she’d asked him why he’d turned down her offer so many times, and Tony can still see how she was trying to so casually bring it up, but that he’d actually hurt her feelings and _fuck_ that was a horrible realisation. So, he’d told her the truth. He didn’t think he’d be able to do it, and that he’d rather not have his ass handed to him.

The next time she brought it up, once her leg had mostly healed, Tony didn’t hesitate to accept. He’d admit, he was nervous but was pleasantly surprised to learn that - while tough - Nat could be a very supportive and understanding teacher. She didn’t laugh at him when he clumsily tried to copy her movements, or when he messed up for what felt like the one-hundredth time in a row.

Their first session consisted of quite a gentle warm-up, some simple ballet moves and stretches that looked a lot more difficult than they were. But, then again, maybe she really was just that good a teacher. Midway through, when they stopped to have a drink and a breather, she looked at him curiously.

“You’re always so quiet during training - well, quiet for you, but still.”

“I guess,” he sucked at his bottle, taking the opportunity to spend a bit longer to think over how to respond, “I just try to pay attention, I guess.”

She nodded her head in agreement, before quirking an eyebrow, indicating a counter-argument to his rather weak excuse. “You _have_ been concentrating on what I’ve shown you so far, I’ll give you that… but every time you make a mistake, you go all tense and start doing that thing where you act like you don’t care that much, even though I know you do.”

Damn, she was perceptive.

“Okay, yeah, alright - I’m not actually as competent as I pretend to be when it comes to super-spy training.”

“...No.”

“What?”

“No, that's not it. Try again, _oomnyashka_.”

“God, you’re incorrigible,” he tittered, looking down at his feet. “It’s just… I mean, I’m used to sparring with the guys? I don’t know, they’re all specially trained and obviously a lot better at all this shit than me, and I’m not exactly up to par with their standards of… _physique_.”

Nat wanted to rebuff that statement but held out a little longer. Tony wet his lips, and continued, albeit a little softer.

“I’m kinda used to being made fun of, and I get it, it’s, what, gym-room banter? I-” he made a _pshh_ sound while waving his hand around, trying to encompass the atmosphere of the gym, “And it’s so stupid but it _gets to me_ , and maybe it wouldn’t if I was as strong or skilled as they all are without the suit, but obviously there's a significant difference in abilities between me and the rest of them, so… so I’d rather laugh it off and pretend I don’t give a shit when I fuck up than to actually _try_ because then I don’t feel like such a dumbass.”

Tony let out a deep breath. Damn, he’d really been holding onto that one. It’s not like he thought the guys were dicks, in fact, he knew if he were to honestly tell any of them that he didn’t quite click with that banter, they’d feel terrible and stop. But he just didn’t want to seem weird or difficult. He was already pretty sure everyone found him at least mildly annoying, so why add to that? 

“I don’t really get that way around you, though.”

Nat was quiet for a moment before she got to her feet and stood in front of Tony. Determined, she grabbed his wrists and pulled him up so they stood eye-to-eye. He gave a small smirk, but rather than exuding his usual charm, it just seemed so uncharacteristically unsure.

“Perhaps you haven’t heard. Men are idiots - yes, that includes you. But you have the advantage of not being a straight man, so that’s one thing,” she joked, smiling when a genuine laugh came from her friend.

“And something men continuously seem to think is that sheer size is a measure for ability. Don’t get me wrong, yes, they’re all very, _very_ skilled fighters - but I’m only an inch or so shorter than you, and you know I could take on any of them.” Tony grinned, opening his mouth to speak, but Nat once again cut him off, “It’s not conceited if it’s true. You’re a scientist, you can appreciate concrete and measurable facts.”

“Very true… so what are you suggesting?”

“You should know the right techniques, the correct application for any opponent. Being smaller is not a weakness, it can be an asset if you utilize it properly.”

She walked backwards, pulling Tony over to the area of the room with padded flooring, “You can be harder to catch, quicker on your toes, and if you for the love of _fuck_ stop giving up every time you don’t get something perfect the first time around, I can actually teach you how to use your opponent’s strength _against_ them.”

So, as per Natasha’s advice, he repressed the perfectionist within himself and did as she told him. Rhodey would be so proud of him - if he or anyone else even knew he was getting one-on-one combat training with _Black Widow_.

By now, Tony wasn’t even sure how many sessions they’d had together, but _holy fuck_ was training with Nat awesome. He knew some of the guys had noticed he was skipping training with them - _gyms really are a breeding ground for toxic masculinity_ , Nat had lamented at some point, and now… Tony had to agree. Ever since he spent more time training with her, getting shit done rather than feeling like he needed to protect his ego. So, he didn’t really mind if they joked about him not keeping up with them, not just because Nat’s ‘take no shit’ outlook was rubbing off on him, but because he knew that in reality, he was training _more_ than he had been before.

Tony was actually starting to look forward to training with the others again. Perhaps he might surprise them this time.

* * *

The team gathered in the gym around midday as per Steve’s request. They’d fallen behind on group training - they’d all had various short ops that kept overlapping with one another, so at the first chance, Steve wanted to get everyone back into the swing of things.

Stretching out his muscles, Steve looked over to the other side of the gym, watching as Tony and Nat pushed each other around, laughing and goofing around while they waited for the rest of the team to get there.

Bucky and Sam approached him, rolling their shoulders and stretching out their quads as they did so.

“That still bothering you?” Buck asked, nodding in the direction of Tony and Nat, both doubled over in laughter at _whatever_.

He’d told them about his… feelings, more or less. He’d not been as honest as he could have been, but he also didn’t want them thinking he was being irrational (or for them to look deeper into the things Steve himself was stubbornly refusing to acknowledge, like said feelings towards Tony). 

_I’m just a little envious of their friendship_ , he’d said. If his friends had picked up on his half-assed excuse, they hadn’t called him out on it.

“Oh, no, not really. S’nice they’re getting along.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, “It’s cute, didn’t really think Tony was Nat’s type, but I guess I can see it?”

_Wait. What?_

“What?” Steve asked, trying and failing to hide how jarring _that_ comment was. Sam just looked between Steve and Bucky, frowning at the way Steve looked like he’d just been told something utterly horrendous and the way Bucky was shooting him a look of utter disbelief.

“Man, no way is that a thing.”

“What! Are you honestly saying there’s not the _slightest_ chance there might be something going on?”

“Well- I know what you _mean_ but I just don’t see it-”

“Wait,” Steve interrupted, “What do _you_ mean you know what _he_ means?”

“I just love these intellectual conversations we have,” Sam sighed.

“I’m just saying,” Bucky continued, “I can _understand_ why someone might think they’re together, but I just don’t think that that’s what’s going on.”

Before Steve could interrogate Sam anymore about why the hell he thought Tony was with Nat, the rest of the team came strolling in, Rhodey in the middle of explaining some plot-point to whatever show he’d just been watching with Clint and Thor.

“Who’s ready to get beat up by Thor?” Clint hollered, blissfully unaware of the fact that Steve’s mind was going into overdrive. _How had he missed that?_ Now that Sam had said it, it was so painfully obvious.

Thor bellowed a laugh, striding forward, “Aye, who wants to catch these hands?”

Sam made an immoral snorting noise before erupting into laughter while Nat demanded to know who kept showing Thor memes.

They all settled into their regular sparring routine, going up in pairs, sometimes deciding on going for two-on-two. Steve couldn’t help but notice Nat leaning over to Tony, whispering things to him in between sets. Steve felt bad for punching Buck a _little_ harder than was necessary, but he couldn’t help it, especially now Sam had planted that seed in his mind. The more he thought about it, the more he watched them together, the more it grew.

“Mister Stark,” Clint declared, stepping up to the mat, giving an exaggerated bow and flair of the wrist, “care to join me?”.

“I’d love nothing more,” Tony replied easily, glancing back at Nat who was giving him a _look_ , the tiniest smirk on her face.

Steve was a little worried; Tony had admittedly been slacking off when it came to training. It had only been going on for two weeks or so, so he hadn’t really felt it necessary to bring up just yet. But if his performance was off today, it would give Steve the opportunity to suggest coming back to more regular sparring sessions that didn’t involve the whole team.

Clint and Tony got into their stances, before the archer made a quick-pace forward, striking out at his opponent. To his credit, Tony made a very sharp dodge - precise even. The next time Clint made that manoeuvre, Tony not only dodged it again, but locked Clint’s outstretched arm in a hold and managed to swing Clint to the side. Of course, the archer rolled with the movement elegantly, landing in a crouched position and looking up at the genius, surprise adorning his features.

Huh. Tony was never _bad_ at sparring - pretty good, actually. But in comparison to other members of the team, he had a clear disadvantage: they’d simply been training for a lot longer and more intensely than he had. That fact was probably why he’d managed to genuinely surprise his opponent - they weren’t used to him making more nuanced moves like that. He normally stuck to a defensive approach outside the suit, and when he _did_ go on the offensive, he relied on the moves Happy had taught him a long time ago - boxing, mixed martial arts, that sort of thing.

But this- there was something… different, but _familiar_ about the moves Tony was making. He and Clint were properly going at it, the archer actually grinning: he was actually enjoying the challenge Tony was posing today. The rest of the team were just as interested now as Steve was, so he didn’t even try and pretend _not_ to stare. 

They were both getting hits in, but overall both had been dodging the others’ attacks well. Clint was pushing Tony, Steve could tell, clearly just as interested to see what Tony had apparently been holding back. But since when could Tony-

Tony ducked Clint’s next strike, and in the same motion, swung a precise kick out and swept Clint’s feet out from underneath him, sending him to the floor with a short shout of alarm. 

Rhodey was cheering for his friend, and Nat was full-out grinning now.

“What in the _hell_? Okay, okay, I see you,” Clint said, a mixture of confusion and delight on his face. He amped up his game, and Tony was actually _matching_ it. 

What happened next had Steve’s jaw practically on the floor.

Clint lunged and Tony made a feint to the side, before vaulting onto the other man’s shoulders, wrapping his thighs around the archer’s neck and swinging with enough force that he bodily _flipped_ Clint forward and onto the mat, rounding off the attack by landing firmly on his feet.

Tony looked about as shocked as everyone else, except Natasha, who let out a delighted and maniacal shriek before running over to Tony.

“ _HOLY SHIT_ IT ACTUALLY WORKED-!”

Clint was frantically looking side to side, as if trying to figure out what happened. He looked up at Tony and Nat, who were jumping up and down like children, clutching onto each other while the rest of the team let out excited shrills of disbelief.

“Of _course_ this is your doing, how the hell did you teach him that?! Actually, better yet, how the _fuck_ did you pull that off man?!” Clint was getting up, not even remotely upset, just genuinely interested. Clint could laugh at anything - but between a strange mixture of being impressed, shocked, and turned-on, Steve began to feel an icy, creeping realisation.

Tony hadn’t stopped practising. He’d just stopped practising with _Steve_.

Instead, he’d been getting one-on-one with Natasha; which… which was _good_ , because she was _clearly_ a great teacher and that really was an asset for the overall effectiveness of the team, and... _oh,_ who was he kidding.

It _hurt_.

* * *

It was morning, and Tony and Nat hadn’t come down for breakfast yet.

Steve was trying _really_ hard to keep himself busy, to not let his thoughts get away with him as to why they would be sleeping in for so long and _no-_ just, no, he was not going there. He resisted the urge to squirm, then tried to collect himself enough that he would sound as casual as possible when he asked:

“Where are Nat and Tony, they’re usually up by now?” He was met with a bunch of shrugs before Jarvis spoke.

“Mister Stark and Agent Romanoff left earlier for brunch, I believe, Captain.”

“Oh, yeah I forgot they mentioned that,” Rhodey waved off, scrolling through his phone as he patiently ate his cereal.

_Right_. That was fine, it wasn’t like they had to run it past him. Rhodey knew, that was fine. Steve didn’t at all feel the bottom of his stomach drop while his throat simultaneously tightened, nor did he have the urge to grit his teeth or _punch_ something. 

Green was an ugly colour on him. He had no right to be jealous, he was still close friends with both Tony _and_ Nat. _But that’s not why you’re jealous_ , a voice in his head sing-songed. As always, he pushed it down, but for how much longer he could do that even he wasn’t sure.

* * *

It became a regular thing between them, going to this little upscale but cosy place to have brunch. They weren’t ever bothered by anyone, and always got the same table towards the back. The servers started to expect them, always smiling happily when they came in. It wasn’t one of those places that made a statement about privacy - NDA’s and phones taken at the door to stop unsavoury photos of celebrities getting snapped and spread all over social media. But the staff and customers alike respected a need for a private and safe-space; not for famous-faces, but for a community that was far too familiar with the fear of being ‘caught out’.

They’d found the place scrolling through some _TimeOut_ article for top 100 LGBTQ+ places in New York. Tony had insisted it was because, God help him, he was going to wing-man Nat. _The lesbians won’t come to us, Natasha, we must go to them_ , he’d told her, dead serious. Also… it was nice, dipping their toes into a community they’d always technically been in, but never felt _involved_ in.

“Why are you always trying to set me up, anyway?” She questioned after Tony had mentioned that another woman was casting eyes Nat’s way, pointing an accusing fork in his direction before stabbing at another piece of pancake.

“I’m helping, and you don’t have to date them, you could make friends.”

“Okay. And this has nothing to do with the fact you have some incessant desire to run throughout New York with a menagerie of gay women shouting ‘let’s go lesbians’, does it?”

“...No.”

“Tony.”

“I’m serious! I mean, sure, that’s _part_ of the reason, but mostly because you always try and set people up, so maybe it’s your turn to be on the receiving end! You deserve that too, Nat.”

“I’m happy now, I like being… me. I don’t feel like I need to date anyone,” she replied. She meant it as well, it wasn’t just some lame excuse like the kind Steve always gave her when she attempted to set him up. “If I meet someone I like, you’ll be the first to know, then you can pay for our date. Happy?”

“ _Thrilled_ , my dear.”

“I could wing-woman you, y’know,” she suggested, raising an eyebrow at him, “It’s not like you don’t get hit on every time we come here.”

“Well, I guess-”

“You have more of a preference for men, no?”

“I guess? But it’s not set in stone.”

Nat nodded, understanding. She glanced up, noting the man at the counter ordering a coffee. He was another regular, and from what she could tell, the looks he shot Tony’s way weren’t just because he recognised him. He was objectively attractive - tall, muscular, a strong jaw, cute glasses, dressed well… she was sure Tony must have noticed, he _was_ perceptive - just easily distracted. But the brunette made no suggestion that he had noticed, or was interested.

“So the guy in the glasses.”

“Oh, I’ve been waiting for you to bring _him_ up.”

“Not your type?”

“Very my type. But… I don’t know, I’m fine?”

“Are you asking me?”

“I mean, like you said, you’re happy single.”

“I am, but you don’t have to date the guy…” she teased, wiggling her eyebrows, “or is that not really your thing, anymore?”

Tony scoffed, looking a little flushed. “You _know_ it’s not. Not that I don’t, or wouldn’t ever… I’m just not…”

“I truly never expected you of all people to get coy about _this_.”

“You’re referring to my slutty, slutty past aren’t you.”

“It’s the only thing I respect about you,” she said in a solemn voice, breaking out into a smile when he gently kicked her foot under the table. She looked at him intently then, scrutinising him. 

Tony knew what she was doing. Prodding and poking, leading him into some kind of admission without ever asking direct questions, instead gathering intel through seemingly relaxed or mundane conversation. It wasn’t a malicious thing, she did it to everyone - friend or foe - but with him and the team, it was her way of coaxing them out of their shells when they had something they needed to talk about, but didn’t quite feel confident enough to just come out with it.

“What do you want to ask me, Nat?” He sighed fondly, nerves beginning to prickle up his spine.

“Do you like someone?”

Tony sipped his coffee, Nat’s eyes on him as he did so.

“Perhaps.”

“Someone on the team?”

“...You know, don’t you?”

It was Nat’s turn to take an obnoxiously long sip of her drink, innocently fluttering her eyelashes at him.

“That you’re in love with Steve? Oh, yeah, you’ve got it _bad_.”

He sucked in and bit the insides of his cheeks, pink dusting over his nose with the beginnings of a blush. 

“Jesus- you don’t think he knows, do you? Or - _shit_ \- no one else on the _team-”_

“No one except Rhodey and I even know you’re bi, and he doesn’t even know you like Steve, so don’t panic.” She levelled him with a sympathetic look, “We both know none of them would have any sort of issue with us if we came out to them, logically, of course-”

“Illogically, though, it’s still a weird and kind of... scary thought.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, “Clint knows about me - not about you though. Maybe we start there: I tell Rhodey about me, you tell Clint. That way, it starts off smaller, y’know?” 

“That… is a pretty good idea, actually.”

“You’re even _surprised_ my idea is good?”

“Fair point. But what do I do about the Steve thing?”

“I’m not sure, that’s more your call…” she then untucked the menu from its stand, facing it Tony’s way, tapping at one of the special offers with her fingernail “But for now, they have a cheesecake the size of Hulk’s head, and you _will_ help me finish it.”

“Why does that even-”

“If we finish it in half an hour we get free coffee for a week.”

“Nat… you _always_ get your coffee free, _I_ buy it-”

“Please, this isn’t even about the money: it’s a direct challenge, and as a matter of pride I cannot let it pass.”

Tony shook his head at her, holding back a smile, before nodding seriously. “Fine, I’ll assist you in your cheap shot at illustriousness.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

* * *

Steve really, really couldn’t take this anymore. He’d walked past the common area, only to spot Tony and Nat passed out on the sofas, curled into one another while reruns of _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ played softly in the background.

He’d _scowled_ , feeling a flash of guilt, before heading straight to the gym. That’s where Clint found him, a few hours later, beating the shit out of a punching bag.

“Uh, you good, Cap?”

Steve felt himself flush in embarrassment, before looking towards the direction of the archer’s voice, grimacing at the worried look the other man was giving him.

“Yeah, just…” he waved at the bag, still swinging as if that answered the question even remotely. (Hint: it did not.)

Clint was squinting at the blonde, slowly sliding his duffle bag off his shoulder and letting it drop to the floor. He followed Steve as the man ducked his head and sat on a nearby bench, pretending to be very focused on re-wrapping his hands. Steve tensed when Clint sat down next to him, obviously waiting for a proper answer.

“I’m just going through some stuff right now, that’s all,” he smiled tightly, and Clint just gave him an unimpressed look.

“Do I need to get Sam or Bucky? Do they know what’s up with you-?”

“God, no - it’s not even… it’s stupid.”

“I worked in the circus and fall into garbage cans more times a month than anyone else does in their lifetime. And I fight aliens and shit with you lot. My bar for what qualifies as stupid is really fucking high, Cap.”

Couldn’t argue with that. Wetting his lips, Steve just decided _fuck it_ , he was going crazy and perhaps all he needed was to let it off his chest and it would just go away. He considered for a moment, thinking about how Clint was close to Nat, so rather than cutting straight to the chase, wondered if the archer had been feeling the same way as him.

“You’ve noticed Tony and Nat have gotten really close right?”

Clint nodded. “Yeah, I guess so…”

“Right, so… do you ever get, I don’t know… bitter?”

That seemed to throw Clint. _Shit_. Steve’s hope that the other man might feel even remotely similar was quickly dying.

“Not… really. We have a different friendship, different bond. He’s not like, stolen her away from me, hell, I’ve started spending more time around Bucky and Thor, so it would be hypocritical of me to get mad that she’s spending time with him.” He explained, and Steve was really regretting his impulse to just get it out there. “Do _you_ feel bitter?”

Eh. He was in it now, and couldn’t possibly feel worse.

“...Yeah. I know, it’s so childish and stupid, I just… I thought I envied their _friendship_. But, God, I’ve just been kidding myself, and when Sam told me they were dating I realised-”

“Woah, Woah! Hang on, Sam said _what_?” Clint was actually looking concerned now. Huh, maybe Steve hadn’t been wrong.

“That they’re together…?”

Clint stared at him, open-mouthed, before making an ungodly snorting noise.

“Where the _fuck_ did he get that idea from?! I can’t even tell you how far off base you are with that one, Cap, but wow I’m not letting Sam live that down-”

“No, no don’t tell him I told you-”

“Why- oh… oh, shit, you said you were jealous? Do you… do you like Nat?” Clint questioned, beginning to look apologetic.

“...I mean,” he could feel his face burning, “It’s not Tony I’m jealous _of…_ ”

“You’re jealous of Nat? For... _ohh…_ ” Clint finished, finally catching on, “You have feelings for _Tony_?”

Steve was too busy staring at his shoes to see the look of realisation passing over Clint’s face. He repressed the urge to grin, knowing it would only make Steve ask more questions - questions that Clint didn’t feel were his place to answer. 

He thought back to just a few days earlier, after Tony and Nat returned from their brunch outing and called him down to the workshop. Tony had been sat on top of one of the workbenches, while Nat was leaning back precariously in a chair, casually cleaning her nails with the tip of a bayonet. _She was nervous_ , he’d realised. Moments after he’d come in, Rhodey entered the shop as well, taking one look at his friend and drawing the same conclusion Clint had just made:

“What’s wrong?” He’d ventured slowly, sending a sideways glance at Clint who had simply shrugged in response.

They’d both just come out with it, clearly choosing not to work up nerves with any prelude to what they were about to say.

“So I’m a lesbian.”

“I’m bisexual.”

To their credit, the pair managed to keep their voices so level that anyone else who didn’t know them so well wouldn’t have even guessed how anxious they were.

Turns out Rhodes knew about Tony, but not about Nat, while he knew about Nat, but not about Tony. Clint couldn’t help but feel a little warmer inside knowing that he and Rhodey - even if they were the ‘logical’ place to start - were the first people that the pair felt comfortable coming out to.

So now, realising Steve wasn’t pining over Nat - who literally had _no_ interest in any man - but rather over Tony, who actually _could_ return Steve’s affections, Clint began to feel the faintest bit hopeful for his friend. And a little smug. What? It was dramatic irony, or whatever, knowing something that no else could see yet. 

Clint snapped out his thoughts when Steve worked up the nerve to speak again.

“Yeah… I’ve really not wanted to admit it to myself, but…” Steve paused. “Wait, you said they’re not together - how do you know that? Did they tell you they weren’t?”

Clint bit his lip. “They didn’t need to- _ah!_ ” Clint cut Steve’s next question off his hand, watching as the blonde’s mouth snapped shut, jaw jutting forward. “That’s not something I’m gonna tell you.”

The archer stood up, strolling over to the armoury and pulling out a bow. As he stepped up to the target range, he looked back at Steve, taking pity on him.

“You should ask Nat about it. Tell her, even. Trust me, she’ll clear it all up for you.” He then mimed zipping his lips, twisting a lock, and throwing away the key. “That’s all you’re getting outta me.”

Damn. He was maturing. Giving advice and being all responsible and shit. He pulled back the bowstring, and made a bullseye (of course), before slyly looking back towards the bench, noting that Steve had gone.

“Jarvis, let the others know I’m demanding we get takeout from that pizza joint I like for dinner tonight. No arguments, I’ve earned it.”

* * *

Steve was beyond confused, but oddly hopeful for the first time in _weeks_.

According to Jarvis, Nat was in her quarters - alone, thankfully. So he took the elevator and approached her quarters.

“Agent Romanoff is allowing you to enter, Captain,” Jarvis said smoothly before Steve even had a chance to knock. He nodded in thanks and walked in.

Natasha was lounging on one of her sofas, hair pinned up and reading something in Russian. Her floor was peaceful and warm - a sleek but tasteful fireplace going while it rained outside, soft jazz music playing overhead.

She let her book drop forward onto her chest, and gave Steve a soft smile.

“Hey, do you wanna sit down?”

“Yeah- uh, if that’s okay? You look pretty cosy here.”

“If I didn’t want to be bothered I wouldn't have let you in, Steve.”

He smiled, “That’s not true… you would have let me in regardless.”

“Don’t tell anyone. I need my reputation as a stone-cold bitch intact.”

Steve let out a surprised laugh, already comforted by her presence. In all this… _situation_ , Steve had let himself slightly forget how close he and Nat really were. She was as grounding as she was unpredictable, a combination Steve didn’t think was possible until he met her.

She sat up a little in her position, tilting her head at him with a quizzical look on her face.

“What’s eating you up?”

“Uh… I spoke to Clint about… _something_ \- I’ll get to it, before you say anything - and he told me I should come talk to you to clear up a few of the, uh, misconceptions I’ve been having.”

Nat stayed quiet, wordlessly prompting him to continue.

“You and Tony aren’t dating?”

Her eyes widened as she snorted loudly. “What, no, of course not - why the hell do you need to ask?”

“I- I thought you were! _Sam_ thought you were-”

“Oh, I’m not letting him live that down.”

“Clint said that, too.”

“Why did Clint tell you to talk to me?”

“I - _God_ \- I just thought since you two were so close, and I was _jealous_ , and when I asked Clint how he knew you guys weren’t together if he hadn't even asked you-”

“Right, coming back to that ‘jealous’ part,” she warned, “But he wanted me to tell you because he said it wasn’t his place?”

“Yeah, exactly - how did-?”

“I’m gay, Steve.”

Steve blinked. Opened his mouth, snapped it shut, frowned, and opened his mouth again.

“Oh. Oh, God, I really look like a fuckin’ ass right now, huh?”

“A little, but only in hindsight, and you weren’t to know. So… why were you jealous?”

“I… I have feelings for Tony. Like, shit, a _lot_ of them.”

It was Nat’s turn to blink at him, before the corner of her mouth tugged into a smirk, looking somewhat smug.

“Interesting… so that’s why you’ve been so sulky. You were jealous of _me_.”

“I know, I know, but you guys were hanging out so much, were so _close_ , and, oh!” he snapped his fingers together as if remembering something “Your dates! You go out to brunch like twice a week!”

Nat levelled him with a deadpan look. “Brunch, Steve.”

“Yeah, Brunch-”

“ _Brunch_. Brunch is a cornerstone of modern gay culture - if you didn’t know that before, it’s vital that you do now, since…” she gestured at him with her hand.

“...Since I effectively just came out to you.”

“That you did. Congratulations! We’ll hold an inauguration for you shortly,” She grinned. 

Steve laughed, weeks of bitterness and angst rolling off his back, leaving him with a euphoric kind of weightlessness he’d not felt in a long, long time. Then something clicked.

“So why was Tony going out with you?”

“You’re not dumb, Steve, so don’t play it. It doesn’t suit you,” she threatened. “I’m not saying any more than that, because _I’m_ not the person to have the rest of this conversation with.”

Nerves hit Steve like a train. “Are you _sure-_?”

“ _Go_. He’s on his floor - mind out for all the shit he’s got lying around, he’s working on some robot,” she waved her hand, dismissing him casually as she turned back to reading her book, hiding her smile behind it.

* * *

Steve took the stairs to get to Tony’s quarters, only two floors up from Nat’s. He was buzzing with anticipation, but also felt himself dragging his feet. He didn’t want to get his hopes up too high - he didn’t think he’d be able to cope with the disappointment.

So here he was, heading up the stairway, passing pieces of artwork Pepper had no doubt picked out, as well as the more recent additions of picture frames encasing moments captured between the team: All of them sat across the Hulk’s shoulder’s, blood and dirt across their faces, still in their respective armours and suits. But there they were, smiling brightly, running high on adrenaline as well as the indescribably relief that there were no fatalities that day.

A little further up was a photo Thor had actually taken - charmed by photography and surprisingly good at his new-found hobby; Bruce had been given an award for one of his studies, and though he was slightly resistant to accepting the praise, the others had insisted on attending the award ceremony. It had been quieter, and far less flashy than many of the galas or press conferences they sometimes had to attend. For once, they hadn’t been there as the Avengers, but as friends there supporting the achievement of their group. Bruce hadn’t stopped smiling the whole evening, supported by the photo in question that had Thor in the foreground, holding up the camera and directing it at all of them, crowded around Bruce with varying faces of glee.

Before Steve knew it, he reached Tony’s floor. He ducked back, using one of the glass frames to check his reflection, inwardly berating himself for fussing with his hair and checking his teeth. 

He’d run out of excuses now. Reluctant to end this little piece of equilibrium - a moment of hope between not knowing and knowing - Steve squared his shoulders, and asked Jarvis if he could go in.

“Of course, Captain.” Jarvis unlocked the door, and Steve took one last shallow breath before grabbing the handle and entering. He’d been more calm infiltrating a Hydra base on his _own_ , for fuck’s sake. He could talk to Tony.

When he entered, Tony was sitting cross-legged on one of his rug’s. True to Nat’s warning, there were bits of wiring and metal, circuit boards and intricate tools Steve was sure he’d probably snap between his fingers if he attempted to operate them. 

The genius was working on what looked like a claw for one of his bots - probably another upgrade he insisted was necessary. Steve couldn’t help the wave of affection that passed over him at the idea of Tony doting on his bots, always berating them but giving more care and affection to them than he often gave to _himself_.

“Hey,” Tony said, not looking up as he fiddled with the wiring, “What’s up?”

“Uh, if you’re busy I can come back-”

“No, no, sorry, I’m just playing around,” the brunette smiled, looking up at Steve now. His hair was dishevelled from where he’d obviously been running his hands through it, dressed down in one of his oversized sweatshirt and sweatpants.

“Okay,” Steve rubbed a hand across the nape of his neck, “I wanted to talk to you about something if that’s okay?”

Tony straightened up, eyes focusing as he nodded. “Uh, sure, that’s fine,” he gestured for Steve to sit down.

Steve accepted, pulling at the fabric of his trousers as he did so, not quite ready to look Tony in the eye.

“First off, I wanted to apologise. I know you might not know why, but…” he ventured a look down at Tony, who was looking up at him from his spot on the floor, “I’ve been pretty resentful towards you and Nat recently, seeing you guys so close just made me... bitter.” At Tony’s slightly hurt and confused expression, Steve hurried into an explanation.

“You haven’t done anything wrong! Neither of you have… I just misread the situation and got really in my head about it. I - I’ll just come out with it: I was under the impression you and her were dating.”

Steve would laugh at the expression on Tony’s face under any other circumstance - torn between shock, mild horror, and confusion - but right now, all he could do was wince back.

“Where in the _hell_ did you get that idea?”

“I just-! I misread your closeness as a romantic thing, up until… well, just recently, actually,” he conceded, rubbing his sweaty palms together. “Nat told me she’s gay.”

Tony’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh! Uh, okay, that’s good - unless… did you have feelings for her…?”

Steve’s heart thumped in his chest when he realised Tony sounded disappointed, with a pointed edge to his tone that suggested there was _something_ he was skirting around, too.

“No, not for her.”

Tony froze before looking, _really looking_ , at Steve. The blonde didn’t try and hide his crooked, nervous smile, or the way his shoulders were slightly hunched, making him look smaller.

“I was wondering, do you - uh - would you want to go out sometime? If you want, it’s no pressure - I just thought, I _really_ hope I’ve not read things wrong here-”

Tony sat forward, pushing up from his knees, and cupped the sides of Steve’s face. He hesitated for just a second, giving Steve a chance to pull away, but Steve looked down at Tony’s lips - and suddenly he was being kissed.

Steve got with the programme instantly, tilting his head the other way to deepen the kiss, cupping the back of Tony’s head with one hand - relishing in the way he could gently tug at the brunette’s curls. His other hand trailed down from Tony’s shoulder to find his waist - in doing so, Steve tilted himself off of the sofa, knees slumping down onto the rug in front of Tony, pulling the other man flush against his body by his waist. 

Tony groaned softly into his mouth, making Steve’s weak. He placed a hand at the small of Tony’s back, his other hand still in Tony’s hair, as he tipped the other man backwards and leant forward. He might have been anxious about being rejected, but now, kissing Tony was all the affirmation Steve needed to jump into action, all his previous hesitation replaced with a searing _need_ to be as close to Tony as possible.

Tony let himself be guided downwards, his back pressing against the rug as Steve settled over him, chin tilted upwards as he eagerly kissed back, hands roaming across Steve’s back.

Steve broke the kiss for a moment, resting his forehead against Tony’s, looking into the other man’s eyes before huffing out a soft laugh, heart fluttering at the way Tony grinned back at him, hands once again coming to rest on Steve’s face.

“I didn’t read wrong, then?”

Tony rolled his eyes with endearment, “No, you got that pretty fucking spot-on.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah - you sure Nat didn’t pay you off or something just to fulfil my dreams or whatever?”

“Your dreams, huh?” Steve teased, pressing another quick kiss against Tony’s lips. “And no, no this is something I’ve been wanting - _needing_ to do for a while.”

“Okay, good - well, you can carry on, if you like,” Tony shrugged, eyes dancing with mirth as he did so.

“Okay,” Steve smiled back at him giddy with joy. He held Tony’s face, stroking his thumb across the brunette’s cheek, coaxing out a blush from him, before leaning back down and pushing their lips back together as he gently settled his weight over Tony’s body.

A few hours later, when they didn’t come down for dinner, no one bothered to disturb them. Steve didn’t need anything else that moment anyway, peppering kisses across Tony’s face as they led in his bed, sheets tangled between their bare legs. 

Everything else could wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you again to the anon who gave me this prompt on tumblr!
> 
> "would you care to write a stevetony fic in which steve gets dumb bitch jealous over tony and natasha’s friendship? we love tropes as classic as bread and butter ✨ if u feelin spicy pirate au is always Right There 💕💕 much love!"
> 
> Also, I just wanted to mention @hawkbucks on tumblr, as I was inspired by some of their amazing Natasha and Tony BrOTP headcanons for this!  
> (https://hawkbucks.tumblr.com/post/624589419494637568/i-love-the-natasha-and-tony-brotp-and-i-am-fully)


End file.
